


Words - Steve Rogers

by BridgeToTheSky



Series: Words [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I can't believe this is getting posted finALLY, I don't even remember how to tag things I'm rusty, Love, Oh wow I'm alive, Possible Infinity War spoilers, Romance, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/BridgeToTheSky
Summary: You are beautiful.There is something like steel about you that brings to his mind flashes of Peggy, something coquettish that reminds him of Natasha and something warm and gentle and wonderful that reminds him of neither of those women and remains uniquely your own.





	Words - Steve Rogers

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I'M ALIVE YES IT'S TRUE. I'm starting to get back on my feet and, hey, let's face it: the MCU gives me a peace that is hard to describe so of course this fandom is where I'm going to see my revival happen, hehe. 
> 
> I've been going through a lot of things mentally the last year or so, and still am pretty bad, but I'm feeling a change in me so let's hope it continues! 
> 
> Also wtf what happened to this series it was supposed to be a drabble series but I've been having fun with the ones I've been developing for this series that things have gotten a little out of hand. Oh well - who's ever complained about MORE writing? Haha! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one and please tell me what you think! I've been so out of it with this fandom that I've forgotten how to characterize and write certain people so this one is bound to be a little wobbly just point me in the right direction why don't ya.

**1, Nervous**

The first time Steve Rogers sees you, he wrings his hands against the handles of his bike, his breathing is shallow and he can almost feel the dilation of his pupils as his mind struggles to comprehend what he’s seeing.

You are beautiful.

There is something like steel about you that brings to his mind flashes of Peggy, something coquettish that reminds him of Natasha and something warm and gentle and wonderful that reminds him of neither of those women and remains uniquely your own.

So, Steve does what he always does when he encounters a beautiful woman — and it is not something he does with pride; he remains silent, feels his heart do acrobatics in his chest as you flash him a quick grin — it’s meant to be a simple nicety yet he feels as though its the only source of sunlight he’s ever witnessed — whisper “hi” so quietly he doesn’t even hear it and pass him by.

Later, he doesn’t even remember what he did in return; did he nod at you? Did he say “hi” back? Don’t … say he did nothing. Just don’t.

Steve resists the urge to turn back and watch you walk away before composing himself, willing his heart to normalize and continue on traipsing down the hallway as though nothing had happened at all.

But something had happened.

** 2, Seen **

He doesn’t have that — what the others have — he doesn’t know how to _dazzle_.

He’s been a part of shows, but that’s different; anyone can look appealing when they’re upper-cutting fake Nazis on stage when there’s a script. He doesn’t know how to entertain. Not even as Captain America. Saving people isn’t as astonishing as it is messy and grueling and lately, Steve doesn’t feel as though he has saved as many as he should.

He doesn’t know how to be a star, only how to be Steve Rogers, and whenever he’s with the Man of Iron or the God of Thunder or Romanoff or, Jesus, any of the other Avengers — he’s irritatingly aware of that.

And usually, it doesn’t bother him one bit. What value is there in being a clown when you have the chance — the real, tangible chance — to make the world a better place?

But, sometimes, when he looks at you and can’t seem to keep your attention, he wishes … He wishes he were _that_ guy. Razzle-dazzle, charming, flashing teeth ready to swoop in and buy that drink. The charmer, the show-boater.

The Tony Starks of the world beat him every day, and this is the only time Steve Rogers ever cares.

** 3, Hearth **

Steve doesn’t remember being this tired. Not for a long time.

His bag could serve as a simile for himself; the way, once he lets it go, it simply slinks to the floor, deflates and dies without a single pause or breath to spare. He looks away from it to you, and there is an equal level of envy and love that washes over him.

You are snuggled up in bed, the soft bed sheets surrounding you like clouds would angels, and a quiet, audible snoring coming from you that Steve doesn’t really have to focus on to notice.

Steve manages a soft smile. To hell with it.

The only thing he bothers taking off is his shoes, that lank to the floor similarly to his bag at the threshold of the door, and gently crawls into his side of the bed.

He wraps an arm around your midsection, a soft kiss to your neck, and finds himself exactly where you are within seconds.

**4, Celebration**

Being around you makes him believe he’s a different person.

Laughter shakes Steve’s shoulders in the shadows of the backyard as you blow out the candles on your birthday cake. Friends that don’t know him and know you so intimately surround you, keep you safe in a circle of light as they chat you up and pester as to what you’ve wished for.

Steve’s in disguise; it’s best if they don’t know.

You look over at him when and before anyone notices, and he smiles up at you.

You’ve grown another year, survived another year being his, and the warmth of the backyard seeps into his heart.

Along with a singe of … guilt.

It shouldn’t be like this.

  
** 5, Exile **

He knew it would be bad.

He hadn’t expected this.

Steve can’t think of any disguises, any masquerades that would work for him — not _now_. Everything went so wrong — _so wrong_ — and he can’t fix it. Can’t even begin to sort out the chaotic thoughts that rack his mind in order to outline some sort of method, some plan.

He just misses you.

“You can’t,” Natasha says, flipping a magazine page over by the coffee table.

Steve turns from the window, brows furrowed in puzzlement. “What?”

“Call her. You can’t. I’m — I’m sorry, it’s too risky.”

“How did you know —”

Natasha looks up at him, fixes him with an expression that tells Steve his concerns had been written all over his reflection in the window.

Steve looks down.

She’s right. No house calls for the fugitive.

Steve then looks away, thinks back to the date proposal you raised, how he had declined, and how he wished he hadn’t.

Damn.

**6, Reference**

“Catching up” is what he does in his free time — when there _is_ free time, which isn’t often, but an hour or two is what he finds he can normally spare.

But, sometimes, You let Steve educate you, instead of it being the other way around.

“Edith Hamilton …” Steve says, shaking his head in some sort of revered state of the faux evil he is seeing on screen. “You know she was really nice in real life.”

Yes. You knew. As he had told you many, _many_ —

“No,” you lie, smiling. “That’s good to know, though; anyone who’s mean to Judy Garland gets these hands.”

You raise your hands, wiggle them for extra effect and Steve laughs.

“Really?” Steve says, head cocking to the side. “I feel like I’ve … said that before.”

“First time,” you say, following up with a soft kiss to the cheek.

** 7, Gentleman **

And he's never been and never would be anything less.

That was the problem.

Sam was amused by the whole thing. “Two shy people into each other,” Steve remembers Sam shaking his head, pouring himself some coffee with a teased smile. “Bad combo. Real bad combo.”

But he wasn’t shy — was he? Not really. Maybe. Steve doesn't know anymore; it’s not like flirting and relationships comes with the job. Being able to take out sociopathic Hydra agents and government assailants gone rogue would never be as taxing as — as _this_ bullshit. Steve knows that much, doesn't really know what it said about him.

Looking around at his contemporaries gives him something of a non-vocal answer to this question, though; Tony and Pepper were going together, to some sort of success (to be honest it was hard to stay updated on whether things were going good or not with them), Bruce had managed to form … something with Natasha — _Natasha_.

Clint was … well, he was _married_. And they hadn’t _known_.

Steve furrows his brows, deep in thought.

Should he … should pay more attention to things?

“Do you … do you want to do something later?”

You look up from the research papers you're filing through. The two of you are alone in the conference room of the new facility and Steve isn't entirely sure if it was the fact that the place was brand new and echo-y or that it was just the two of you that made the uncomfortable silence even more uncomfortable.

Finally, a reprieve; you smile.

“Later as in …?”

“Later today, tomorrow,” Steve exemplifies, waving his hand in a circular motion, a gesture meant to suggest the undefined passage of time. “You know, whenever …”

A wider smile, a cock of an eyebrow.

Steve begins to relax a bit; maybe he has that charming awkwardness?

“Sure,” You reply, stacking the papers together. “And what a great time to ask, too.”

Your answer is so soothing that Steve doesn't pay mind the comment that was meant to be sarcastic, and he lets you think it has gone past his head.

“Good,” he says. That’s out of the way.

Motion in his peripheral vision, the sound of the door sliding open — Steve turns to see Sam and Natasha walk into the conference room, obviously about to report something but, at the sight of you two, they halt.

Their gazes go from you to Steve, then back again.

A smile from Sam — a _knowing_ one — and then —

“Sorry,” Natasha said, “Not that important, We’ll … get back to you later.”

**8, Vacation**

He isn't the same Steve they had thawed out all those years ago. He isn't as — and would _never_ be — as dutiful, and as “obedient” as he's been before. He’s been torn apart, has seen and fought gods and aliens and has had to deal with absurdly powerful objects that no one should ever have and that coincidentally **_everyone_ ** wanted.

He’s seen the corruption of the things he’s cared about, has seen the degradation of values and principles he’s fought hard for, has been the result of lies and has been lied to without regrets, has seen and concealed the truth and now has burns from the engines of the Iron-Man suit to prove it.

And now?

Obviously, a vacation is due.

Not a long one, which was also something Steve thinks is obvious; he tells you so, doesn't want to keep any promises he can't keep. He still has a job to do, even if he doesn't quite know where he stands in it.

Via a text conversation after a tussle in Germany, the two of you decide on a tiny road trip followed by a little camping (killer robots and tesseracts and god knows what else makes Steve and you pretty keen on the idea. How ‘bout _nature_ for a change? After everything he’s been through the ever-present fear of poison ivy just doesn't seem to be as traumatizing).

You found some retro hippie van from an era Steve _technically_ should remember but of course he doesn’t, and it was so cute that he found himself not really caring how you have acquired it. He sits in the passenger seat, his hand laces in yours and the little ice-cream nibble of normalcy that the two of you have found on the road is something Steve wishes he could cut out and place somewhere to remember forever.

And that's exactly what happens; in hindsight, the memory of your head against his chest by the campfire, of the feel of your heated lips against his, the way the stars above had danced in your eyes helped to make the pain — the cuts and bruises, the wounds and the cuts and the images he can't erase from his mind — just a little, little bit more worth it.

At least he doesn't have to wonder what he fights for anymore.

** 9, Family **

It isn't even something the two of you allow yourselves to think about, but it manages to slip through, during quiet moments.

It isn't something Steve is sure he can't have, but it feels far away — like shore to a drowning man. A family, a _legacy_ — Peggy has brought it to the forefront of his mind, but she wasn’t him, she hadn’t been him. Of course, she could … but could _he?_

Quietly, against his ear, the answer to his question comes to him — directly, not indirectly, this time.

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

**10, Dust**

No.

No no no _no no no_ **_NO NO NO_** —

He wishes he didn't allow himself to think about it.

You being crumbles and scatters to the wind before Steve can comprehend what is happening, the small particles that had made you up tossing in the heated African wind, bits of you still rest in his hands, wedged into parts of his gloves, his _uniform_.

God, _no_.

The others follow, but he could _understand_ those, he couldn’t understand _you_ — you had been and suddenly you had not been, like the light that dissipates at the flick of a switch, just like that, just because of … He — _Thanos_ — has made your life absurd, something that can be distinguished and forgotten and no. **_No_**.

No.

 ** _No_**.

Steve has felt the misery and now he feels the anger. He raises, parts of what used to be you clinging to him, falling away from him all at once. He doesn't know what the others would do, but he knows what he was going to do.

For you, for all of them, what he has always done and will always do.

Avenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, in hindsight, the tense is all OVER the place because I wrote some scenes in past and some in present and hopefully it doesn't show too bad? I tried to fix it the best I could but if it was a hindrance to your experience with this fic I sincerely apologize ew ew ew so sorry. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!!! Don't forget feedback please!
> 
> (p.s my internet's been iffy so when it said 'this page can't be reached' upon posting I almost had a heart attack whew)


End file.
